An Ending
by silenus
Summary: Not everything turns out the way it should. (HP/DM)


Title: An Ending  
Author: silenus (silenusnz@hotmail.com)   
Rating: PG (only because G is so lame)   
Pairing: HP/DM – yip it's slash people (very, very mild though, actually if you blink you might miss it)   
Disclaimer: characters belong to JK Rowling. I'm just borrowing them for a tic.  
Note: I apologise in advance for the third-personness of this fic. It just got stuck in my head and _wouldn't_ leave. But I probably got most of my tenses mixed up, so there you go.

All good things must come to an end. Harry knows this. But realising this and wanting it to happen are two very different things. 

Looking back now, Harry realises he had become complacent. He had become accustomed to certain things. Hermione would always be top of the class. Ron would always beat Harry in chess. Hagrid would never learn to cook, and Snape would never smile at Harry. Or wash his hair. And Harry was perfectly content with this. It was status quo, and what was status quo if not a good thing? After all, Harry always bested Malfoy. Always. That's just how it was. And Harry wasn't sure you could really blame him for assuming that's how it would always be. 

Hell, his record speaks for itself.

And perhaps that was the problem. Standing there, watching Malfoy's retreating figure, Harry can't help but shake the feeling that he's missing something. Something important. He's all for 'moving on' and 'chalking it up to experience', learning to live with life's little disappointments and all that. But he's not sure what he's supposed to be 'moving on' from. 

He can't be moving on from a 'Harry and Draco', because there never was a 'Harry and Draco'. There wasn't even a 'Potter and Malfoy'. Well, not in _that_ way anyway. The fact that he can stand there and even rationalise the possibility of a relationship with Malfoy is something, he supposes. 

Harry has only really wanted two things in life: a family and to be normal. Well, perhaps normal was overrated anyway. Harry was never going to be normal, he knows that. Well, unless he quits the wizarding world, becomes a writer and spends his days drinking pina colada's on the beach. Not that the idea doesn't have merit. It does, but Harry's never been one to shirk his duties, and he's not about to start now. So if he can't have normalcy, he'll have the next best thing. Consistency. 

And Draco Malfoy was very consistent. 

He was always there. The proverbial thorn in your side, if you will. And Harry had become rather accustomed to that. To Malfoy. His taunts, his threats, his mere presence. The fact that he was the only one, and this still bothered Harry to a degree, who would look past the 'Boy Who Lived' and see Harry. Or Potter. Or Whatever. The fact that he didn't like what he saw wasn't the point. It was that he bothered to look. 

Or maybe he was just reading too much into this? But there was still that feeling, like an itch he couldn't scratch. Something just below the surface, something glaringly obvious, but he couldn't see. If he could just see. 

Maybe it was time to increase his prescription? 

A quidditch match, pale fingers grasping the snitch, a smile (not a smirk), and a sad, disappointed look that didn't quite fit. After all, Malfoy had just won the match, where was the gloating? Where was the pride? Hell, Harry would have even taken stunned disbelief; after all he's sure that if Colin had taken a picture of him, that's how he would have looked. Goldfish expression and all. But nothing. Just a sad smile. 

Malfoy's gone now. Probably celebrating Slytherin style. Harry's not actually sure how Slytherin's celebrate, but he's sure there's a certain style to it. Maybe even dancing, sophisticated dancing. Once more Harry's grateful he chose Gryffindor over Slytherin, at least there his two left feet can rest in relative comfort. But imagining Malfoy dancing isn't helping matters. Harry shivers, and it's not just from the cold. 

He's alone on the field. He remembered vaguely hearing whispered consolations of 'not your fault Harry' from Seamus, and 'it was bound to happen sooner or later' from Ginny, who had become a surprisingly good keeper after Oliver left. Not that Ron had been too happy with that discovery. But then he hadn't been too happy with tonight's result either. In fact, he was probably still proclaiming that Malfoy had fixed the game to anyone who would listen. 

Their last quidditch game. Ever. Well, not ever. Harry had some plans to play professionally. But he would never play against Malfoy again. After all, graduation was next week and Harry would be leaving Hogwarts for good. Not something you could postpone really, though Harry had briefly considered flunking Potions so he could repeat. However, Snape had passed him with flying colours because, Harry suspected, he wanted him gone. At least Snape was consistent. 

And then it happened. Harry had an epiphany. Nothing terribly exciting or cliché as an exploding light bulb, just a pang. Harry would miss Snape. He would miss the consistency. 

And if Harry would miss Snape, he would definitely miss Malfoy. 

And maybe, just maybe, Malfoy would miss him. After all, what's the good of having a rival, if they're not around to taunt. Harry supposes he can send threatening owls to Malfoy, but it's just not the same is it? 

And looking back now, Harry realises what he missed. What he should have seen. The smile, the look. The realisation that this would be the last time they played that game. Their game. And Malfoy had changed the rules. He'd won the game. Quite a note to go out on really. 

It was all too clear to Harry now. What Malfoy had realised and he hadn't. Things had changed. Things would be different. Because Malfoy wasn't giving him a beginning, he was giving him an ending.


End file.
